A shiver ran through me as I stepped into the hospital elevator.
Only a few months ago, I had spent five terrible days on the twelfth floor.
My physician friends had tried, teased and slightly mocked me.
They said, there was no need for me, to stay.
Nothing in the world would make me leave.
Leaving the kids with others, I stayed right there, beside him.
On the twelfth floor!
The cardiac floor!
The floor where they tried their best to find out...
Why my husband's heart was acting, in that strange way?
It was not his age....
Nor were there, any other obvious roots!
The nurses were sure gorgeous, but still not the cause.
His heart had gone wild, way before the bed baths ;-)
Five days, did I say?
They were centuries...of turmoil and pained thoughts.
I'm so glad that the nightmare was over, after five days, with a cure at hand.
Today, in the elevator...
A thought occurred to me...
Eighth and twelfth were only four floors apart,
Yet the emotions on both floors were two poles apart.
While scare touched the heart at one...
Just four floors down, joys where at large...
With a smile of my own...
I pushed the lighted number...
To go see the baby of a friend, on the eighth floor...
That was where, a new life was at it's start.
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